All Imperfect Things (English)
by shimmervision
Summary: In a monochrome world we all battle Fate for a happy ending. Ritsuka knows the rules of the game far better than anyone to allow himself dwell on illusions and pray to the pale moon for a lone lost dream imprinted deep down in his heart. (Action takes place after 5th vol. more or less.)
1. The Fool

Prologue

_It seems I've always had trouble with sleeping. Paradoxically, I often went to bed early along with the setting sun or around 10 p.m. but managed to fall asleep at 4 a.m. Yet still, there were many nights completely devoid of sleep. _

_When I breached the seemingly inaccesible border of consciousness I found out that nothing awaits me there. There was no relief, no bliss or salutary rest for me. There were no colorful dreams, I got up as tired as I was the previous day or maybe even more because I had to survive another one. And I... I was like a nightingale with no voice of its own. I was all alone._

_I strolled a lot. Admired the beauty of nature. I loved winter truly and the beautiful icicles hanging from snow-covered windows. I loved the snowflakes falling from the sky – the tears of the angels – I called them. Bare trees reminded me of my empty soul and it hurt insanely and permanently. Soon enough I stopped going out anywhere, with the exception of school that I hated dearly anyway. I closed my eyes so very often only to spare me the sight of stupidity and filth that ruled this world. And then I finally didn't see it, but still inhaled its poisonous odour that irritated my throat painfully._

_I didn't name the days passing by, didn't pay attention to time or think about anything relevant. Soon enough, all the beauty of nature started to overwhelm me. I even thought once that madness somehow managed to sneak inside my mind and possess it. I only felt heat, grief and pain, I wasn't as free as the nightingale, I wasn't even a shadow of his notes!_

_When summer came I hated it all even more. Summer was always so sunny, so warm and green, full of flowers and colorful butterflies. I couln'd stand it. This beauty hurt me, knowing this hurt even more. I wanted it to stop. And I would've managed to do that but for a beautiful butterfly appearing in my life that memorable day. I was shocked by his beauty and delicacy, I was so amazed I couldn't name all its colours. And I started to crave freedom. Its freedom. And this ease with which it spoke to me..._

_I still remember the taste of my tears when it landed on my shoulder._

_Shortly after, I realized that I don't want to give up on anything. I was fascinated by the uniqueness of my butterfly and for a brief moment I did know how to be happy. I smiled at the stars and they flickered back, surely they were as happy as I was. And then... And then everything just happened._

_It was a chilly November afternoon when I noticed my butterfly's blue glassy eyes. Again, I was shocked. And very much surprised. How could that be? How could such a beautiful creature subordinate to melancholy? I was so stupid and oblivious. I suffered greatly and so did he due to my own foolishness. His freedom was so fragile and thoroughly improvised that I lost all the strength to touch it. And even though I was able to fall asleep only with him by my side and it was him that I wanted to share the sight of the rising sun and teras of the angels with... I knew I made him suffer. But he disagreed and said I was foolish..._

_He promised to teach me how to fly and race with the northern wind. He was almost as much crazy as me, yet I never doubted his words and always laughed when he joked. And when he fell silent I never felt bad about it. Only when he was lost in his thoughts did I see that piercing ice appearing in his eyes. He ceased to notice my presence then – he hurt me by breaking my soul into pieces. But I never told him that._

_He became a butterfly whithout wings of his own._

_I don't even remember when I lost him. I have no idea what happened to trust, but I searched for him – this beautiful butterfly of mine. He was a messanger of light bringing it into my life and soul. But he remained elusive. Whenever he tried to take flight I didn't try to stop him but hoped that this time he would be successful. Simultaneously, I cursed myself for the very thought. But still, I was ready to give him my own wings, to become a nightingale devoid of everything. I needed to become the negation of beauty that he saw in me. I wanted..._

_But he never let me do that._

_And even though I close my eyes often, I still see him gliding through the life of a dying bird. And I know that every time I see him, I die a little bit more. No, we die together, I am pretty sure of that._

_Stars still flicker to me at night when I cannot sleep a wink. These nights became a dull routine filling up the emptiness that was left by his disappearance. But still, these nights seemed trifle when compared to all that I had to go through. All that I had to bury inside of me all these years._

_Since then the stars have always reminded me of that glassy gaze of his when he told me I could take flight on my own and sing the music of his very own soul. The same soul he left with me forever – until the very end of this or any other world. But such a beautiful world nonetheless..._

_The realm not only of chilly and sleepless nights, but also the tears of crying angels – just like I used to believe before I let myself cherish a certain butterfly._

_I am sorry._

**All Imperfect Things**

dreamistru/ aka shimmer

**The Fool**

A big scarlet ink blot landed on a snow-white canvas reminding him of a bloody tear. He spread it quickly and clumsily turning an ugly spot into a lush cluster of scarlet poppies. There was a butterfly sitting on one of them. A pale blue one.

A ripe pear fell to the ground from a nearby peartree, probably due to the summery wind. The image seemed idyllic, everyone who peeked at the painting would say that. Everyone but him.

They said it _looked nice_, admired the composition and gave him encouraging handshakes. Should he change something or leave it as it was though? No... he thought it was decent. Or maybe...?

He was often like that – thinking whether what he's doing was right and if there were any unpleasant conseqiences awaiting him later on. Funny that he was thinking about it even while painting.

From the moment he saw Soubi at work he wanted to give it a try, even though he jibbed at painting because he simply had no talent. He landed in panting classes a week later and all he had to do was accept what he had suspected all along. His _works_ left a great deal to be desired.

But he didn't care – they allowed him to pass the time. It was better that way than to let time slowly kill him off.

And the painting? Oh, there was everything there; scarlet flowers, pale blue colored sky, old peartree and a tiny butterfly... A butterfly. Small and pale, unnoticeable at first but still imprinted on the canvas. It made up a tremendously important element of the whole picture.

At first everyone laughed, because _come on_ he was almost mature and drawing butterflies? His friends painted machines and chose more serious themes, but he – a 16 year old already – painted trees and meadows full of poppies!

They knew nothing.

He wasn't meant to be an artist, that he was sure of, but this one painting wasn't that bad. It _really_ wasn't bad and if they thought that a summer landscape is all there is to it... It's not his business really. He won't enlighten them on the topic, nobody had to know what he really painted there.

Nobody had to understand him.

He washed his hands and face, and put the canvas in the storage. He knew he will reek of terpentine and he will have to bleach his shirt. Yet again, he won't allow himself to meet Soubi, only to keep up the essential element of surprise.

He sighed heavily and run a hand through his black velvet hair. And when he noticed one of his friend's canvas, he froze. The panting was beautiful and vivid, full of golden ornaments. It was pure perfection.

_No way,_ he thought and decided he had to improve his own masterpiece.

A lone butterfly wasn't enough.

* * *

When Ritsuka had first met Soubi he asked him a lot of questions. He wanted to know something about his brother, anything at all. Then he demanded information on Soubi himself, and word battles as well as the secret organization that he has called Moons ever since – just because it sounded disrespectful enough and that was precisely what Ritsuka wanted – pure mockery and an opportunity of abreaction.

But Soubi always remained silent.

Perhaps he was too proud or he had no intention of talking himself hoarse. Or he simply knew that there was no point, that the boy would never understand this.

But even if he wouldn't, so what? He could always ask additional questions, he sure would do that! And he'd be free from this horrible distress. He'd be happier.

He almost managed to force the information from the fighter one day, but in the end he only repeated that he couldn't tell Ritsuka anything. That he wasn't allowed to give this information even to his Sacrifice. The boy clearly remembered how he felt that day – as if he were hit in the face with a block of ice.

That day he threw him out of his room.

Standing aimlessly in his own bathroom now, he gazed at the mirror and his own saddened eyes. He was wearing a fresh scar on his neck – the newest acquisition he got when he came home late at night. It was just a moment of carelessness, he lost his vigilance for just a split second and then...

He unbuttoned his shirt and gazed at all the white scars decorating his upper body. And he hated each of them, truly. They were a sign of the weakness he allowed himself to feel only a few years ago. They were reminders of the darkest part of his life. Of the very murderous blackness.

He touched one of them – the very touch felt like he was sticking a frozen needle in his skin. His eyes went cold, his gaze hazy. How could he ever let it happen, all this? Why didn't he leave, why didn't he fight?

He wanted to get rid of the scars with his bare hands, rip them off, make them disappear from his body. Right now! It didn't even cross his mind that such action would lead to acquiring new disfiguring marks.

He never left this place because he was a coward, he was one even now. Otherwise he wouldn't be feeling so low. Worthless. And he would have it all – strength, courage, and a life he could cherish. He would never know the taste of tears and the cruelty of fate, he would never feel the cold touch of loneliness. He'd never become a mere pawn in this wicked game of semblance and mystification, he'd simply never allow it.

He then struck the mirror hard with his own fist, breaking it into sharp tiny pieces. He felt this determination and then noticed these cold pieces of glass painfully wounding his skin and his face. He felt a hot liquid running down his wrist in great quantity – yet for this split second he didn't even care, just observed it. He gazed at his reflection, his bleary eyes looking back at him and he just felt so defeated, just like when he was only 12 and carried all the weight of the world on his weak shoulders.

" Fool... "he whispered, his voice shaking.

He then flung the pieces to the floor not paying any attention to all the blood that came with it.

* * *

" Evening. " his Fighter entered the room gracefully and shut the balcony door behind him. Ritsuka didn't even lift his gaze from the book he was reading though. " What happened? " he noticed the boy's hand wrapped in a thick layer of bandages. Ritsuka only shrugged.

" Nothing, really" he lied. " What do you want again?"

Soubi took the heavy volume from his hands.

" Hmm, so now I need a reason to visit you?" – he sat on the bed next to him and stroked his dark hair gently. " I better start coming up with reasons then, before you start locking the door." he joked.

" How did you know? This was the plan actually!" finally the boy gave him a weak smile, but then his face went grave again. Not so good of a joke. " Look, I have to ask you something."

The man's gaze remained inscrutable yet somehow it seemed curious, intrigued even.

" You didn't really know me before... well, before I lost the.. um.."

" Your memory? No." his voice seemed exasperated now. Strange, the boy never expected such reaction. Or such a cold gaze, such volte-face.

Damn. What the hell? He had every right to ask him. Soubi knew Seimei so he could know him as well back in the old days.

" Why?"

The boy shrugged again. He never let astonishment and dissapointment show on his face.

" You remembered something?"

" No, " Ritsuka shook his head and let it fell on the pillows. He only wanted to know. He _needed_ to know, was that improper, was that wrong? He needed that! Why couldn't Soubi underestand?

And why was he so serious now, all of a sudden? Even if Ritsuka had remembered anything at all, so what. If the Fighter truly didn't even know him before Seimei's death there really was no reason to be this stiff. The boy amost choked on the air he was breathing, it was so heavy from all the negative emotions.

Out of the tail of his eye he noticed that the man was still staring at his wounded palm so he hid it under the quilt.

" I've brought you something." He finally said and took out a thick shabby looking envelope from his pocket.

" And that is..?"

It was Soubi's turn to shrug now.

" Just open it. I presume it may be of some interest to you." He put it on the bed clearly awaiting some sort of reaction from the boy, but when none came he let out a sigh of exhaustion. He lifted himself from the bed and made his way to the bathroom.

Ritsuka fixed his gaze on the envelope. Was this a joke? A gift? What's the occasion then? He was even more curious when he finally reached for the item, yet his hand hovered over it for a while unable to move any further. And then he withdrew. Was he really so afraid? Stupid coward...

He didn't utter a word. He just never expected this, really, that he would get something just like that out of the blue. That he wouldn't have to put some effort into it. Perhaps the envelope contained important data, maybe Seimei's own words or maybe Ritsuka's from when he was still his old self. Or better – maybe this was the Moons activity record! Any information would be of great value to him now...

He promised himself to open it this night. He'll just wait for his Fighter to leave, he didn't want to be disturbed. Ritsuka wanted to draw conclusions on his own, he didn't need anybody's help and to be honest if the content related to Seimei it might turn out too personal for Soubi to see it.

He didn't even notice how hard was he clutching the quilt until Soubi's voice reached him. His head popped out of the bathroom door, his face pale.

" Ritsuka... What have you done to that mirror?"

Oh shit. He forgot to get rid of all those pieces, he only wiped off the blood hurriedly.

* * *

He must've been utterly exhausted by his own feelings or the bleeding wound, maybe both. He couldn't even remember when exactly he fell asleep – it just happened and he had no control over his draining fatigue.

It was morning already and he could hear bird chirping happily as if nothing had happened the previous day. But he woke up with that envelope in his healthy hand and still didn't even know what's inside.

He moaned clearly annoyed by what he was feeling and with a heavy heart he hid the item in a drawer. He hurried to school and he just couldn't take it with him there, he was too sfraid he might lose it.

There will be time for this. There will be loads of time, if not in the evening then at night. And this time he will do anything not to fall asleep – coffee, cold shower, whatever it takes. He has to find out. He has to check this, he has to know!

Enough, time for school. God, how will he even focus? It seemed so beyond his abilities right now.

But he ran down the cobbled pavement bumping into random strangers he didn't care about.

* * *

Azure-eyed Soubi lit a smoke and put it in his mouth. Did he do the right thing? Maybe he should really think before giving that to Ritsuka so carelessly, maybe it was better to wait with this...

No, it wasn't. He knew and this knowledge took all the bits and pieces of hope that he had left in the deepest parts of his very soul. Let him have it, he deserves it.

It was plain obvious why he didn't want to hand it over – he knew perfectly well what was inside. And he didn't like the idea. Perhaps he will regret his actions, perhaps he'll blame himself later on. And maybe it'll all be justified.

But he was so damn anxious. He'd never give him the envelope but for the boy's trust. He'd keep it or he'd throw it away. Or burn it. He'd live with Ritsuka peacefully and light-heartedly and happily. He'd carry one additional regret – that he was never able to trust him properly – but you could live with that... Or maybe not. Anyway, if one pathetic remorse was the price of their happiness then maybe he really shouldn't have done anything, just destroy the damn thing in the first place.

But he couldn't take that back now. Didn't matter how much he wanted to.

" Why so-oh see-serious? " Kio's yawn helped him emerge from his thoughts. "They accepted your project, you should be happy."

" I have this premonition."

Obviously, Kio had made it clear that Soubi shouldn't shut down so often and forget about the world, and about Kio himself, of course. He always thought that Soubi was overreacting when it came to Ritsuka, always. Or maybe Soubi was trying to make excuses for himself? That might be so, but he was never good at it anyway.

The Fighter grimaced at his friend and adjusted his glasses. But the sting of trepidation never left his heart till the end of the day.

* * *

The classroom reeked of chalk and damp sponge, yet nobody bothered to open the windows – everyone was exhausted. It was their last class nonetheless.

The teacher bore them to death and tortured with yet another definition on literature. Her shrill voice only made the experience even worse.

Ritsuka could only dream of getting the hell out of here, jumping out through the window and breathing fresh air. Or maybe of spreading wings, just like birds did. His brain was boiling and he could almost feel it flow out his ears.

And then he was hit hard below his ribs, he felt tears flooding his eyes immediately. It was Yayoi attracting his attention and as it turned out he had every reason to do so – he was all blue and apparently suffocating. Ritsuka stood up immediately and led him out of the classroom providing short explanation to his teacher, on the way. Ritsuka opened the windows in the corridor and led his friend towards it to grasp some air.

"Thanks."

" No problem. I was dreaming of getting out of there myself." He leaned on the windowsill and enjoyed the breeze.

" Didn't look like it..."

" What do you mean?"

" You spaced out in the middle of class. What's wrong?"

_Oh,_ did he really? Apparently he was busy speculating... Well, whatever.

" It's nothing." He mumbled. Amazing how often did he reapeat the phrase, almost mechanically.

But then again what was everyone's problem? He only wanted them not to ask questions. He wanted this inner calmsness, he wanted to breathe peace and freedom, just this once. Why did everybody have to intrude upon him? Did it make them feel better or provide some sort of entertainment?

He walked slowly towards the smelly classroom, after all he chose the lesser of two evils. He just wanted to be left alone than being forced to explain himself to anyone. Even if this wasn't really fair, even if this didn't solve anything, helped anything – he didn't care. He's not changing his mind, ever.

He went there, took his usual seat as if nothing had happened. Yayoi did the same thing after a few minutes.

Everything was fine, nothing bad happened. Nothing but for one shred of hope for a lone fulfilled dream he was carrying. But he'd never admit to that. No, nothing happened, apart from that pitch black cloud of doubt hung right above the boy's head. If the rain falls it will wash away what's left of his hope... He'll have nowhere to run to, then.

And he wanted to burst into tears, right here right now. He needed the tears, he wanted them to flow. He didn't really care why, he just wanted to let them, just like that. It's a pity he couldn't, really. A pity he had to fight them, bottle up all the grief.

But it's nothing... Nothing at all.

He could cry and scream at the top of his voice but they – these carefree people living their happy perfect lives – they'd look him in the eye with their blatant disgust and go their seperate ways. They'd hail him the fool, but he wouldn't even blink. He's been one in his own eyes for such a long time already...


	2. Dark Warrior

**All Imperfect Things**

dreamistru

**Dark Warrior**

_The Fighter and his Sacrifice are linked by a strong bond, a sort of connection enabling emotional understanding. They exist, and may continue to do so, for each other only. Nobody else has the right to matter. For them, nobody else even exists._

Ritsuka knew that and thought about it for a long time, but when he didn't reach any satisfactory conclusions he stopped and resumed drinking his orange juice.

" Do you have your latin notebook?" the rose haired girl that just passed him grabbed some boy by the elbow.

" Do we have latin today?"

Ritsuka was too lazy to roll his eyes or spare a comment. Actually, when the weather was so sweltering and all the girls left high-heels marks in the pavement he was too lazy to do the smallest of things.

That's exactly why he gave a sigh of relief when he left the school grounds, finally being left alone. He was so satisfied nobody was bothering him for once, nobody wanted anything from him, nobody was throwing things at him or screaming. Nobody, not a thing...

But of course he was wrong.

One familiar figure was waiting for him just outside the school gate.

* * *

Kio eyed him critically. _Is the kid blind_?, he thought. The boy was wearing a shabby looking shirt and blouse, and there were holes in his jeans. Or maybe this was what contemporary children chose to wear to school these days? Nevertheless Kio threw down his arms at the boy's taste. The kid was looking at the man in an odd way, too – as if he didn't know whether he should come closer or turn around and run. He did come closer to the man eventually – good, Kio really wouldn't know what to do if he chose to run away from him now, of all times.

"Let's have a word?"

The boy didn't reply. He was still watching the man closely, suspicion growing in his eyes by the minute. Yet he did agree and followed him to the nearest cafe.

He didn't want anything to drink, refused to take off his blouse and didn't even bother to hide his annoyance. He must've had a shitty day so Kio decided to make it quick.

"Well,um-" he started " Anything happened recently, between you and Sou?" No comment. If he was in Ritsuka's shoes now and heard anyone dropping such a phrase he'd be looking at the person the same way the boy was looking at him – full of pure astonishment, yet still as a block of ice. Or maybe Kio was imagining things since the boy blushed after a while as if some unequivocal thought hit him...

"No! No, you know..."

"No, I don't. And I've no idea what you're talking about."

Well Kio didn't either so he ordered a drink and decided to get one for Ritsuka who didn't even try to oppose, apparetnly wanting this to be over, the sooner the better.

"What I mean is" Kio said seriously " you should really drop this. You know, you're still a kid, take it easy..." he winked at him knowingly. 'This is not a good moment, I can tell you'

The boy didn't answer.

"What the hell are you talking about?" finally he'd had enough of these mysteries. "The right moment_ for what_ ?"

He says he doesn't know, does he? Little smarty-pants, is he? But Kio had dealt with more than that and... Well, no, actually he only wanted to set things straight, nothing more. He didn't really want to argue. Particularly with the boy. Particularly now.

"You haven't noticed, have you? Listen," the man downed his glass and went on," You know he's picked up another course. He's working, too. The idiot has a life and a pile of responsibilities apart from other nonsense I don't really even wish to know about. You have to know this, yet you never seem to care. It's not the right moment to bother him now, okay?"

Great, he now sounds like a saint old maid, doesn't he? Lovely. An image adequate to his extraordinary personality for sure. To hell with that, Soubi was more important than that, than his own reputation anyway.

And he went on to no end. He preached and complained about Ritsuka's selfishness. He said Soubi's been spending more time outside the house for months now, and he's received many rebukes from his boss. That he was always angry or subdued and Kio was really worried he couldn't do anything about it.

Ritsuka was taken aback. Not by the fact that Kio had actually insulted him and considered him a burden, a useless vermin, nothing more. No. Even though the boy knew Soubi would never roam the streets being depressed or cry his eyes out like Kio had assumed... No, that wasn't why Ritsuka was worried.

The boy couldn't take it simply because he knew that Soubi wasn't present in his own house, too. Where did he disappear then?

But Kio was merciless and didn't stop his rant there.

"The truth is he was acting in the same manner when he had those strange connections with your brother. Same thing really. And believe me, that didn't turned out okay in the end. If you really wanna make him as miserable ..." but Ritsuka stopped listening to his words by then.

He went pale and felt the glass shatter in his grip, shards digging in his delicate skin.

* * *

That night Ritsuka tried not to think about anything. He wanted to go and lie in bed and fall sleep, yes, sleep for about a few days, or months. Or maybe his whole lifetime if it meant he'd not be tormenting himself with what he'd learnt today.

Was he really that much of a bother? Now, after all these years when he finally started to believe he meant something to him? Really meant something.

No. _Don't think_, he reproached himself.

And he didn't.

Fate proved merciful that night and let him sleep as soon as his head touched the soft pillow. Or was it cruel and wicked by letting him fall asleep so easily without even letting him notice a pair of blue eyes peeking through the dirty window pane, thoughtfully.

That night the wind danced with a weary sigh and cigarette smoke, to no end.

* * *

_The Fighter and his Sacrifice are linked by a strong bond, a sort of connection enabling emotional understanding. They exist, and may continue to do so, for each other only. Nobody else has the right to matter. For them, nobody else even exists._

Soubi had heard that before but never truly believed it. He never wanted to. They told him countless times, reminded him that when he wanted to quit it all and go live his life his way... These were all black lies, poisonous words.

He though about it every time he felt that uncaring gaze, that irionic smirk he was supposed to take as a merciful smile. He could remember that cold touch, that firm grip on his own throat and those fingers pulling his hair. He could taste the humiliation. But even that wasn't the worst. It was disappointment that broke him leaving countless pearl scars deep down in his heart. And regret, this infinite loss of an innocent being that had to suffer pure torture.

And he knew perfectly well that he'd never ever forget that, no matter how hard he'd try.  
No, he wasn't in despar nor was he taking a tragic view on this. His feelings couldn't be broken now. It's just that he still felt this undying heat in the most remote parts of his consciousness. And sometimes he really did want to awaken it, he wanted to turn it into blazing fire and burn something – anything – and watch it turn into ashes...

"Sending the project by e-mail again?" Kio was watching him from a pile of bills he was trying to handle.

"Yeah."

"So you'll probably disappear for a week or two, then? And you'll come back and repeat the cycle." he wasn't even shouting, he didn't have to. Soubi didn't even probably care anymore when he'd see his friend again anyway, or will he ever see him."And then you'll tell me tha-"

"Yeah." Soubi really didn't want to hear this tonight. He turned off his PC, stood up, took his coat and left the apartment.

Kio went back to reading the unpaid bills, his hands trembling slightly. And then the night came and the room became dark but Kio never turned on the light. He didn't have the strength to lift himself from the chair. It happened every night like this, when the wind broke through the opened window and there was no Soubi in the apartment to close it.

And the bills were constantly getting smaller.

* * *

Ritsuka barely crossed the threshold, took off his coat and shoes when he felt that hateful gaze that gave him evils. The boy sighed.

He didn't have to speak, she knew better. She knew he was supposed to be back earlier or shouldn't come back at all. She knew he wasn't her son, he was only faking and that will never change. She knew he was good for nothing, he shouldn't even exist in the first place. He should've been killed before he got used to living. Before he got used to anything, for that matter.

His mother knew all this, of course. His own mother. She could be right, maybe she really was since he's always felt so dispensable. He wasn't really needed by anyone.

But he didn't have to speak, she was already throwing things at him, mugs and plates and everything she could find within sight. He didn't have to look, he already knew she was running on her shaky legs, running toward him trying to hit his expressionless face. Or that she grabbed a kitchen knife that still had traces of butter on it. He knew.

But she didn't realise one crucial thing. Ritsuka wasn't this little fragile twevle year old boy anymore. She was the weak one now and the more insane she got over the years the less she could coordinate her movements. He could be as skinny as he was but he grew taller and could find the strength now not to cover his head with his hands, not to run to his room. Not to wait for the hit. Not to run away in fear. Ever again.

He grabbed her by the arm, like every night really, before she had the chance to hurt him. And he held her. He simply held her like this and she struggled and screamed and tried everything to break free. And when she had no strength left she grew faint in his arms as if she were a mere puppet. And then he'd hug her. Just hug her and stroke this black hair of hers. She was too exhausted to notice the gesture of course, or his dead face, with those purple eyes so glossy at this very moment. She would only whisper words so quietly that he couldn't understand, sometimes still trying to hit him with her shaky fists.

And later, at night, after he'd led her to the living room, put her on a sofa and covered with a blanket, he'd gaze blankly at the ceiling in his own bedroom. But his eyes were still shimmering unnaturally in the moonlight, when his only wish was to be needed by someone, by anyone.

He really wnated that. Someone to need him, to love him. To miss him a bit. He wished someone would do something for him, even the slightest thing. His own mother couldn't love him. And he could only dream about a day when he'd finally accept the reality as it was – black and white and colorless. He wasn't even supposed to be thinking about this, he was just a kid.

The boy gazed at the pale moon and gave up, he let the tears run his cheeks silently.

He only wanted to be needed in this cold world, now more than ever.

* * *

Why is there darkness where light can rule? Why solitude always comes at night, cold and empty? These dark feathers of thought, torn and blooded... A bunch of painters' metaphors that only make things worse. Bitterness and pain can get hold on your heart, from inside out, and crush the last happy thought you held with no mercy and in such a way that you can't find your own breath.  
Why is that so? For whom, why, wheres the sense in that?

Nobody will ever ask, nobody will ever try because who knows what the answer could be? Who'd ever give one anyway.

He always repeated the same thing in his head – think twice before you ask anything, before you start to question, before you become the fool seeking knowledge that you simply can't have the right to claim. Before you hit rock bottom and drown in black grief, before you truly get a taste of helplessness.

He threw away the cigarette with disgust and let himself gaze at the dark sky. Yet again he didn't listen to his own rules, he drowned in his black sea of thought, forgetting the colours of the day. He never thought he'd be that weak...

" Ritsuka," he really wanted to tell him so much right now, he wanted to hold him in a tight embrace and tell him the whole truth. Maybe everything would be okay then?

But the night was cold and silent, just like his every night. Even the animals were quiet, even the wind was gone and took away the sound of rustling leaves from him. Only the moon was left, the same, unchangeable – round and as glowing and as lonely as always.

And he was just like the moon. One and only and cursed, eternal and stubborn. And full of scars.  
Weeping alone in the middle of the night, unnoticed during the day yet forcing anyone to acknowledge his presence when the sky turned black. A pale shadow and a witness of every brutality the world had ever known and would definitely never forget.

It was a while since he felt like this... Like now. As if he were a bird yet wasn't able to fly, as if he couldn't breathe because the wind itself had died and left him breathless. As if something ended and all he was doing was trying to hold onto it. Even if it'd cost him his own life.

He wasn't even angry now, even though he knew anger would come eventually. But now he wasn't grieving, if he's lucky enough he'd never feel that one thing again. Right now, he was just... He actually wasn't. He died, like all the noble feelings and sensitivity for beauty, all that had left him. Died. Even though his heart was still beating – crying! – desperately not to yield.  
He could never admit to failure, no.

What if Ritsuka _really_ closes the door for him after this...?

The night faded as weary dawn approached him and yet again he was searching the old moon as the sky became brighter, but to no avail.


	3. The Yearning

**The Yearning  
**by dreamistru

Saturday brought heavy clouds and rain, and Ritsuka was woken up by birds crying on the wind and muffled thunders coming somewhere from afar. The weather was an exact representation of his very own condition.

He sighed deeply and lifted himself on his elbows – he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep now. He was sitting like that for a while, watching his feet. And made _the_ decidion, he finally found it in his heart to do so.

The boy got up and kneeled on cold wooden floor reaching to one of the drawers. The envelope, _his_ envelope. That's a good one. If he could, he'd throw it outside the window, or burn it – it made him so nervous he'd do just that. But he feared the consequences, and curiosity was burning in his heart like wild fire.

_Soubi..._

"Why did you give me that...?" Yeah, why indeed? Was it to test him, see if he opens the damn thing or throw it away uninterested with its contents? Was this another trick? Nonsense. Why was he always doing this to him?

The paper was old, so very old, it must've lingered at least a few years in a very dark and damp place, a basement, maybe? The glue was so weak when he opened it that he had to be right, it gave in so easily, too easily. He was petrified with what he was doing. Then all at once he turned the envelope upside down.

A few old photographs hit the wooden floor, some of them almost lost all the colour, the edges were ragged and torn. He picked one up and his eyes met Seimei's. And they were so very cold.

He grabbed another one. His older brother was sitting in the garden with some notebook on his knees, he was writing something down frantically, it was obvious he had absolutely no idea he was being photographed.

Then, Seimei was going down a busy street, black bag hanging from his shoulder. He was furious, Ritsuka could tell. And he must've been in a hurry... Was he going to school?

Another picture depicted him preparing chirashi sushi in their kitchen, or watching TV, doing the simple things... Every photograph had Seimei on it, every single one.

And then he came across a totally different one, they were standing together, one next to the other. Ritsuka being maybe a five year old and his brother all happy and smiling beside him. There was something in his dark eyes, something that made him so amazingly calm and collected, some inexpicable glow. The Ritsuka from the picture was also very joyful, giving him a wide smile.

Seimei was so different on all the previous photos, no doubt about that. He was a different person here, beside his innocent little brother... or was it because they both knew someone was taking the picture? _Who_ did, anyway?

The boy sighed, yet again. What is this? He did have very few of his pictures but why would Soubi give him these, what was the meaning of this? Should it mean anything at all or did he simply return his brother's belongings? That could be it. But then why was he so disheartened when he gave it to him, why did he leave so urgently, too?

"This is nonsense." he said slowly, aloud, trying to cope with rushing disappointment. And then he brushed yet another photo with his hand, it must've fallen out of the envelope as first, and slid under his bed. If he headn't rested his back against it he wouldn't have found it. But he did, and when he gazed at it he stopped asking questions.

It was a picture of Soubi, but it wasn't the man Ritsuka knew. He was looking at a fourteen—maybe fifteen year old boy who had the same golden hair, the same soft blue eyes. Sparkling, yes, _they were smiling_, Ritsuka thought. Laughing with such tenderness and innocence he had never seen in him before. And trust, also.

He was wearing a simple white shirt with a collar and a deep blue tie – he must've just finished school term or something. Doesn't matter.

What mattered was this honest glance, its warmth, his soft smile and this... intensity shimmering in these blue eyes. He was pure like an angel, a cliché, but still.

That's what he was looking at – gentleness, a soul so beautiful it made his eyes itch, fighting what might've been tears.

"But why..." a whisper, his voice broke by then. He pressed the picture gainst his chest and said nothing more.

***

"What are you reading?" Yuiko was right by his side after the bell had rung.

Reading? Not really. He was merely gazing at the, _uh_, biology textbook, he couldn't focus on the text. He gave her a shrug.

"Why are you worried, Ritsuka?"

"Uh... am I?"

She nodded fiercely, eyeing him closely with that empathy she'd always had for him. Her rosy curls rested on her shoulders. She was so... different, now. She didn't really resemble the old Yuiko, her hair was longer and she had them loose most of the time. She was much taller and slimmer and, well, very much like all those girls from the supermarket adveriting all sorts of products. It didn't mean she looked _worse_, but, well deep down Ritsuka missed the silly little girl he became friends with, the one that would always jump around cheerfully and laugh carelessly.

"I'm just tired."

"Do you sleep well?"

And is the world flat? She had to ask, didn't she.

"Sure." he lied. He didn't sleep at all, in fact he was so exhausted he couldn't take it anymore yet every time he tried to lie down and sleep, the thoughts came. And they never let him sleep, not for a minute. So he was lying on the bed, thinking, staring at the ceiling or birds flying past the window. And then he'd always reach under his pillow and take out this single photograph that he had, the one he could stare at for hours...

_Soubi..._

Yayoi came rushing through the crowd, towards them. Judging from his expression they could tell he was also tired and a lone wrinkle on his forehead informed he was irritated as well. Only when he saw Yuiko did he relax slightly.

"Cheer up, Ritsuka. She can't handle the sadness." Yayoi gave him a weak smile and put his hand on the boy's shoulder to give him some physical support.

"Well, tak to you later, Ritsuka!"

"Yuiko-" But she was already past them then, disappearing behind the classroom door. She must've been busy, after all she had so many friends now.

"What did you tell her? Why did she go ignoring me just like that?

Ritsuka shrugged trying not to let out the snicker that was lurking inside his soul. These two would always argue about something, really, Yuiko and Yayoi were just like...

"... children." he whispered and gave a small smile.

"What?"

He let out that snicker anyway, and Yayoi wouldn't leave him alone till he told him what was so damn funny. He'd annoy him, ruffle his hair even, just to find out.

_It's moment like these you appreciate your friends_, Ritsuka decided. Even if Yuiko was the one who was moody, even with Yayoi's nagging, and all the irritation he could feel when they were so interested in his private matters, everything that made the boy so sad so often, or happy, sometimes, too.

His smile fade out after a while when he came back to reality. Indeed, Yuiko and Yayoi were the happy ones, the ones that'd never ever understand him and his feelings. They were the ones that wouldn't stay with him forever.

***

The sun was long gone from the sky making room for colder hues, the colours of the night, and stray bats preparing to take flight into darkness. Ritsuka was going back home, he spent the afternoon at Yayoi's house playing some game of his. _Playing_, that's huge, Ritsuka was only staring and eating biscuits. He wasn't really interested in the game, shooting at anything and anyone within sight was pointless. But Yayoi seemed to enjoy such games, well, a matter of taste apparently.

Clouds were starting to gather and cover the sky above him, the storm was coming, he could tell. Even now he could feel tiny raindrops in his cheeks and the wind getting stronger and colder by the minute.

He could see his house from where he was though, the garden, the gate... and something else, too. Someone else. There was someone there, a silhouette, no, two actually. One of them taller than the other, that was much more muscular but much shorter. Ritsuka stopped at that very moment and hid in nearby bushes.

The men were clearly waiting for someone, marching from one side of the street to the other, growing more annoyed by the minute. _They're waiting for me_, he thouth immediately. He was frightened, he had no idea what a pair of bullies could possibly want with him and he did not want to find out or taste the knowledge on his very own skin. The boy backed down, turned behind a corner and run in the opposite direction, without making any noise – just in case. He kept running for a longer while, the storm had come and he was totally drenched. His wet hair was getting into his eyes but he didn't stop for a minute, didn't think about taking a rest. He wasn't safe in the streets, he knew, and he was frightened. Tremendously.

He could really think of only one place he could go to.

***

Fear didn't leave him while hammering the wooded door, Soubi's door. It wasn't even showing just how scared he was, but inside he was shaking. When the door finally gave in and opened he stormed inside and closed it shut behing him. He was staring at Kio's shocked glare, clearly taken aback by the boy's sudden entry.

"What the hell!" the man demanded, clearly not expecting visitors tonight.

Ritsuka peeked into the kitchen and the living room but the apartment seemed to be swallowed by darkness.

"Where's Soubi?" he asked, shaking. Kio glared at him growing angrier by the minute.

"Not here. I thought he was with you." The man noticed fear building up in the boy's eyes then. "What's happened?"

Ritsuka's legs gave in and he crushed to the floor covering his eyes with his palm.

"Nothing... yet. I don't know. Somebody's after me."

"After you!" Kio went pale but helped him stand up and led the boy to the kitchen where he offered him hot tea. The kid was drenched and freezing. The man made himself a srtong coffee.

"Could I... stay? For a couple of days? They were waiting right outside my house."

To hell with coffee! He grabbed a bottle of sake and poured the colorless liquid straight to his porcelain mug.

"Right."he said weakly." But first, you'll tell me what the _hell_ is going on or else I swear-" but when he looked at the drenched terrified Ritsuka he couldn't bring himself to make any threat. He saw fear in his eyes and he saw worry that's even greater than his own. Kio knew the feeling all too well.

***

Days were all passing by slowly yet Ritsuka managed to get his fear under control even though he still caught himself thinking about that rainy night. He told Kio what he knew and nothing more, he was still wondering who was waiting there for him right outside his very own house, and most importantly, what for.

Kio was neutral. Yes, he did let Ritsuka stay but also demanded that he'd be careful from now on and try not to endanger the apartment as well. The boy nodded and from that moment the two were talking only during breakfast and about such trivialities like whether they should take orange juice or water with scrambled eggs.

Soubi didn't come home, not even once, and for some strange reason it made Ritsuka feel bad. He couldn't simply miss him, now could he? It'd be strange to do so, maily because-  
Well, he didn't really knew, he wasn't really sure what he was feeling apart from this fear and worry. Not to mention Soubi had let him down so many times it'd be impossible to _miss him_ just like that.

"Lock the door, Im in a hurry." Kio grabbed a toast from the kitchen, put it in his mouth and left the house quickly, slamming the door behind him. Ritsuka did what he was told and sat at the kitchen table, staring at the yellow goo on his porcelain plate. He lost all his appetite.

Jus then he heard his mobile ringing – it was Yuiko. _I guess she's worried I'm missing school again..._He didn't pick up, he didn't want to hear this. And most importantly he didn't want her to know where he was and what... what he was feeling.

And then it hit him. Hard. He straightened up and slammed himself on the forehead. It was that obvious! So apparent, so _insanely plain and simple_! He could call him, he could find out where he was, where his Fighter was. Why hadn't he thought of that before, the idiot?

The boy called but no one picked up. This was bad. Ritsuka run his hand through pitch balck hair and stared into space. He should text him then, send just one short message Soubi would find and read later on. One that he'd answer.

That's exactly what he did, but still no answer came to him that night.

***

He was really starting to worry for real the next morning. Ok, soubi was an adult, no questions about that, and he wasn't an idiot but accidents happen. _Oh, shut the fuck up!_, he cried in his mind desperately.

Actually, nobody was getting on his nerves now, nobody really annoyed him nor drive him crazy. There wasn't anyone to tell him what to do, or how big of a child he was. Or to be careful every time he left the apartment. Nobody wanted anything from him, well maybe Kio, sometimes, but really alll he wanted was a toast with some cheese on it, nothing more.

Ritsuka was spending his days in the apartment, browsing through pictures, staring into space thinking about nothing. He lost track of time, he never knew what date it was or which day it was, for that matter. He wasn't even sure whether the month had ended or not. Pathetic.

It was _cool_ sometimes though, or quite all right at least. He could now taste this forbidden freedom, stay up all night if he wanted, do whatever he wanted and... Well, he didn't really want to say it out loud but he got bored of all that very quickly.

When he was sitting alone at night he was too cold, but when he tried to fall asleep it was jsut the same. He missed the jokes, he even missed that worried tone of voice he'd always give him. The one that asked if everything was all right. And it's worth mentioning he hated the very question with passion.

No, it wasn't all right, not now. He felt so.. empty, as if he were some sort of a fruit, a peel, devoid of everything what's ever been inside. Only it was worse because he could feel the difference, he knew something was missing.

It was still evening when he was sitting at the table hovering over his cold soup, with a phone in his pocket. He was wearing a crumpled shirt, looking absolutely miserable. He didn't want to iron it, what for? He wasn't going anywhere anyway.  
And he would probably just, like every other day, stand up without touching his supper and go straight to bed. He would then lie with eyes wide awake for hours cursing the world and, maybe finally, get some sleep only because he'd be too tired to stay awake, to sick with his own weakness.  
That's what he would usually do if it hadn't been for a barely audible twang of the keys in the lock and muffled thud of heavy shoes in the hallway.

His head shot up immediately and the moment he saw him he regretted it. And wanted to turn back time. Soubi was standing in the threshold, clearly shocked by seeing the boy here. The man's hair was a mess, his coat was covered in dark, almost black bloodstains and his neck was an open wound. And Ritsuka couldn't bear the sight of that.

He hurried towards the man at once, got hold of his coat, clenching his shaking fists. He didn't say anything, he couldn't say anything. He simply stared bluntly, gazed into these aching blue eyes decorated with blooded eyelashes and... Cried. Simply.

And then, with no care in the world about anything else, embraced him so tight as if the world was going to end this very moment. And he promised himself not to let go of him. Ever.

***

That night stars were shining more brightly. Soubi was fast asleep but that couldn't be said about Ritsuka. The boy just this once didn't ask him any questions, he didn't have the heart to do so in such circumstances. And his Fighter seemed so at peace in white duvet that matched his bandages...  
Ritsuka was sitting on the floor, uable to take his eyes off him.

"I thought you'd never be back."he whispered, he could barely hear himself."I thought I'd never see you. I thought... I thought a lot."

Butterflies of the night begun their dance with tattered street lamps, and clouds seemed to crawl lazily on pitch black sky. Ritsuka knew his Fighter was exhausted and couldn't hear his words. He was starting to feel sleepy as well, and no wonder, all that fear and stress were finally letting og of him, making it possible to relax and numb him slightly. But the boy fought, he didn't want to sleep just yet. He let his shaking hand wander and rest on his sandy hair swept across the pillow.

"I feared that-"

Funny, isn't it. He felt such peace now, like never before. He could finally relax, calm down, gaze... He wasn't afraid at this very moment, no. And he wasn't worried so much although somewhere deep down his heart he could tell it's just a matter of time, this calm, this moment couldn't last for long. And he only had that one night because only it's obscurity could conceal his worries, cover it with a think layer of clouds. And with these gone from the sky, the sun would eventually demand its rightful place in the universe. And all the unease will be back, he knew. It was inevitable. Ritsuka was used to the fact that tomorrow was never certain, never granted and it didn't matter whether he liked it or not. But he still had a few hours, hours filled with deep breathing by his side and moths fluttering outside the window. And he decided not to give a damn about tomorrow. About anything really, after all he had everything, at this very moment.

Ritsuka fell asleep on the floor with his head resting on the bed Soubi was sleeping in, his face covered in wheat coloured strands of hair, sparkling now and then in weak orange-ish light cast by the street lamp. The boy wasn't dreaming about anything, but that's okay. A weak smile appeared on his tired face anyway. And just wouldn't go away.


	4. 4 am

„Because someone's looking for me", said Ritsuka miserably when Soubi asked him about his 'moving out'. He didn't mind it, of course, Ritsuka even thought he asked merely out of politeness, not really being interested in the actual reason. Or that he'd already known it, and he was confirming facts. As it turned out, the boy was right.

Soubi had met Ritsuka's tormenters-to-be as he was coming to his house. The three of them had a talk, a long and intense one. Soubi put all his effort in the conversation, attempting his best rhetorics only to find out anything about the whole stalking issue. It's due to said converation that his coat was covered in blood and good for nothing now, and his neck ached painfully under the bandages. But he claimed it was worth it, and Ritsuka would never have to see the bastards again. Thet he'd taken care of that.

"Did you do anything to them?"

Soubi threw a packet of cigarettes on the bed and loosened the bandages slightly.

"Mh, maybe."

" Maybe!" the boy shivered. "You can't kill people, just like that! What if they catch you? What about their families? _What if they catch you?_ Have you even considered they weren't working alone? What if they _really_-"

The man covered his mouth with his palm.

"It'll be all right."

"But-!"

Ritsuka felt great agitation, big black anxiousness digging inside his frantically beating heart. Did he kill them? But why, couldn't he just slightly, _uh_, batter them, or even do nothing at all? It'd be better that way, for everyone. Didn't Soubi see that?

"It'll be all right." his Fighter reassured him and locked the boy in a tight embrace. "They're alive, they haven't made a cold blooded killer out of me, yet. Nobody's going to catch me."

But Ritsuka seriously doubted that.

"Tell me, now", Soubi continued," You opened that envelope?"

The boy fell silent, he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to mention the topic at all. He's just managed to avoid beating, survived the greatest fear imagineable and worried all nights long... And Soubi didn't even bother to explain anything, treating Ritsuka as if he was a no one. As usual.

"Yeah", he said simply.

He couldn't read Soubi's expression by then, but chose not to say anything else nonetheless. It seemed as if such straightforward answer suprised the man. He straightened his back and grabbed a cigarette.

"I was just thinking" the man said."A change of surroudings is in order."

Ritsuka froze and gazed at him, utterly surprised. A change of surroundings? Was he serious? Well, that was too much, he crossed the line here. How dare he change the subject, how could he conceal everything from him, but expect answers instead? What gave him the right to make decisions about his life, about where he'd live?

But what could Ritsuka expect, Soubi was always egoistic. Even when it seemed that he'd care about the boy... He didn't. Too often did Ritsuka trust the make-believe, too strong was his desire for all his Fighter's words to be true. Even if he wasn't _his_ Fighter at all.

"I'm not leaving, if that's where you're going with this." It was best to cut him off."And you, don't you think you owe me something?"

The man fell silent, for a change.

"Come on," Ritsuka felt fierce anger building up inside him." How about you start with where you're going when you're gone. Yeah, Kio was so kind to mention that one. Or tell me what for, instead? Or maybe, next time, before you think of going to my house _at least_ you'll consider the possibility of being in my shoes and worrying all the fucking night-"

"You worried about me?"

Ritsuka sighed, deeply.

"You really don't get anything."He made his way to the door."You said you've taken care of the bullies, so I'm going home."

Soubi went after him and rested his head on the door frame, watching the boy put on his shoes and jacket, just to wait with his small hand on the knob, wait miserably for the man to say something. Anything at all.

The Fighter was watching him with these glassy eyes of his, and sighed as deeply as Ritsuka had. With agony. He seemed to have decided something just now, and even the boy wouldn't be able to change his mind about it. Ritsuka shivered with fear.

"I'm leaving, though. With or without you."

His knees gave in just then, he couldn't believe his own ears, his own eyes. But that glassy glance was so indifferent it crushed his heart to pieces, and his voice, so dead right now, so serious, like never before... So his words were never worth anything in the first place.  
The boy squeezed the knob, white knuckled. And then he pushed the wooden door, with all his strength.

"Farewell, then!"he cried, as he really wasn't able to say anything else, he didn't have the voice to do it. Running outside he put on his hood to hide himself away from the cruel world, the darkness of the night immediately consumed his silhouette. If he was to stay at his apartment, he wouldn't be able to talk it over, he'd fall to pieces, he knew. In fact, if not for the intense run down these cold, empty streets forcing himself to act, to move, to put some effort into living, he'd drop dead and stop existing.

Ritsuka was swallowed by darkness yet Soubi didn't move, leaning on the door as he watched him disappear into the night. Then he went back in and quietly closed the door behind him.

Ritsuka didn't order him to stay.

***

He was running down the empty streets, tripping over kerbs and falling into cold puddles. How dare he say something like that to him... Didn't all these past years matter, at least one bit, to him? Was he truly a mere toy to him? And why did he always have to cut his soul into pieces – and who was Ritsuka to allow him do that?

So many questions and not a single answer. He slowed down and gazed at the cloudy sky. Was he really not going to see the man? Ever...?

But- Maybe if he'd agree... _No!_ He can't just leave everything behind with no apparent reason. What will happen to his mother, who'd take care of her when he's gone? And his friends? He's supposed to abandon them? They were the only people that still seemed to care about him. What about school? How could he change his whole life in just one moment? And why would he listen to Soubi anyway?  
And there was the case of Seimei...

To be honest, he knew all he did was lie to himself. His mother managed to live on her own. Ritsuka has now been gone for over a week and somehow he could bet he'd be hit in the face the moment he crossed the treshold.  
Yuiko? She had her own friends now, and was so cheerful and happy anyway. One popular girl. And even though she still cared deeply about him, she didn't really pay that much attention to him, didn't she? Of course, he had to admit that phone call right after his disappearance was a nice gesture, but still.  
Yayoi? He only had eyes for Yuiko, he wasn't able to see anything else. He wouldn't miss him for long, too.  
And Seimei was dead. Revenge could never bring him back.

The truth was staring in his very own eyes, painfully and face to face, laughing jeeringly right at him. That's it, there was absolutely no one who'd _really_ give a care.

When he made his way back home his mother was already asleep, or maybe she's taken sleeping pills again and simply crashed in her bedrom shortly after. Ritsuka went upstairs and entered his own room, then lied down on the bed, wearily. He was lying like that for hours, switching sides now and then, only to finally lift himself on his elbows. He then reached right under his pillow and grabbed that one and only photograph.

The warmth of his eyes consumed him, again and again, smiling happily.

How did Soubi change into this merciless liar? How did he learn to inflict such unbearable pain...

***

Ritsuka didn't go to school the next morning. He didn't really know what to do anymore. He hasn't shown up at school for almost two weeks now, and he hoped nobody went to ask his mother about it – or worse, contact the police about his disappearance. He'd find himself in great deal of trouble then.

The fact that he was in pieces didn't help him, at all. To be honest, he seriously doubted he'd manage to put himself together. After all, all he had to do now was learn how to live with no more expectations, he'd have to stop dreaming.

He gave that photograph another sad gaze. A pity this was all he had left him. Maybe Soubi already knew, back then when he gave him that damn envelope – maybe he knew he'd eventually leave him. He wanted Ritsuka to understand their paths would split anyway, and this photograph was just some sadistic farewell gift, nothing more.

Ritsuka would give away everything just to meet the Soubi from the picture. He was sure that this Soubi would never try to hurt him.

But life was no fairy tale, and no colorful dream where favourable Fate would grant him all his wishes. He had to continue living, think about here and now only. And Ritsuka's problem was falling back to this dull routine of his peacefully enough not to make people pick on him. He couldn't take it.

He finally managed to leave the house unnoticed, so he went to the city and ordered imself a hamburger in some no-name bar. His meal had no flavour, of course, but even if it did, it wouldn't brighten up his mood.

Through a dirty window pane he was gazing at all those cheerful people passing by, and all those couples madly in love. If he was to walk down that pavement he was sure he'd keep his head low and pierce the ground with his eyes. That was depressing. But apparetnly, Ritsuka's time to be happy was over. He met Soubi in primary school and now he was in secondary. That was more that enough. Nothing lasts forever, anyway. He should appreciate what he had even though he lost it. He had it, for a while. That's what mattered.

It was the most beautiful time of his life.

Suddenly, he froze as he noticed his friends right outside the bar. Yuiko and Yayoi, together and as happy and smiling as any other content people satisfied with their lives that he'd seen today. They were deep in conversation, or maybe it was just Yayoi talking and Yuiko laughing lightly.  
So that's how it was... That's why she called him just once. She must've forgotten all about him since she'd got better things to do. And Yayoi was oblivious to the world, he had his eyes only for her.

Ritsuka left half of his now cold burger on the table and snuck out of the bar through another entrance. He really didn't want to look them in the eye just now.

***

He roamed the city all day long, only to reach his own house as late as possible. He needed a sole dose of peace, not a mother who'd throw plates at him in pure rage when he enters.  
When he was finally heading home, walking down the usual narrow road, he saw someone moving. Again. Near the fence.  
At first, he thought it was Soubi leaning on the gate, waiting for him, but when he walked closer he noticed the man was slightly slimmer than his Fighter and his hair was black. Normally, Ritsuka would be terrified but he really didn't care about anything right now and getting hurt was no exception. Today, he didn't have any reason to run, he didn't want any more lies and secrets. He had to do it, right here, right now. So he walked straight to the stranger, he wouldn't kill him just outside his own house anyway, now would he? He came alone. Maybe he really wanted to have a word with him.

' Excuse me?' said the boy. ' Can I help you somehow?'

Ritsuka looked straight into his eyes, cold and dark ones. He had some sort of smirk hid in his gaze, and was now leaning against the closed gate, clearly blocking his way. The man gave him a mocking smile.

' If it isn't Aoyagi Ritsuka, safe and sound. So you didn't run away from home, after all.'

Ritsuka didn't know what to say to that so he kept silent. That guy was speaking quietly, almost whispering but he heard his every word. And didn't like this sneering voice of his.

' Why would I run away from home?' he shrugged, giving in finally.

A muffled cackle was the man's answer. There was something sinister in the sound of it, as if the man was gloating over his unawareness. As if he was ahead in the game and Ritsuka was left behind, as usual.

' Oh, you'd run. You'd run fast if you had any suspicion of what awaits you here.' Risuka backed down at those words, but the man was faster. He grabbed his shoulder, crushing it painfully with his scrawny fingers. ' You see, as it happens I do have an offer you couldn't refuse. And you won't. Or you'll never see the light of day again.'

_Well that wouldn't even matter now, would it?,_ Ritsuka thought. His life was so black that he truly didn't fear any kind of darkness.

***

_There was a leather suitcase resting on the treshold. The boy looked at it first, then his eyes switched to Soubi's face. He couldn't comprehend what he was witnessing. His head was pounding and he was paralyzed by fear clutching at his throat with its scrawny fingers..._

_' What's happening?'_

_He didn't even glance at him. He simply readjusted the dressing on his neck and took his coat from a nearby chair. Put a packet of mint Mild Seven in his pocket and a stand of hair behind his left ear._

_It was all too much._

_' You're running away?' he stepped closer, basically forcing him to look him in the eye, at least for a split second.' After I told you everything? After you came back barely alive? You're packing and leaving, just like that?'_

_His Fighter glanced at him, vaguely, clearly indifferent. It hurt._

_'You may put it that way.'_

_Ritsuka grabbed his suitcase and threw it against the opposite wall._

_' How else am I suppodes to call this? Hell, tell me, how else should I call this!'_

_He knew shouting wouldn't help. He knew it'd tell him how much he wanted him to stay, and how abnormal he was. And he didn't care if it did. Because sometimes it was better to be silent, to let things slide. But now? Ignore this? Never._

_He felt as if he was suffocating, as if something was crushing his neck._

_He was acting like a brat, there was no doubt about that. He didn't give a damn that his eyes stung like hell. And that something was crushing his throat and lungs, clearly smothering him. If he doesn't tell him now, he might never have the chance to._

_Apparently, Soubi didn't know how to react._

_' I called you constantly,' Ritsuka said.' And I hoped, all along, I hoped you'd come back. Hell, I quit school, I came here, I wainted for you like a dog and trashed around in bed from all the nightmares! And now... You...'_

_Suddenly, he stopped talking. By hen it hit him. He didn't mean anything to Soubi. Since it was so easy for him to leave and... All this time he was deluding him. Lying to him, for some absurd reason. And now, when things were getting too hot for him, he was running away. The blasted coward! He was leaving him to die._

_Everyone was right about him, after all._

_Ritsuka backed down. He wasn't aware of the tears running down his cheeks. Nothing could explain these tears now, nothing, and he knew he hated every single one of them. He noticed Soubi taking a few shaky steps forward._

_They boy suddenly forgot how they found themselves in the hall._

_' Don't come any closer.'_

_' Ritsuka...'_

_' Get out', he was furious that his voice cracked.' This is what you wanted.'_

_He was throwing him out of Soubi's own apartment, oh irony. But he didn't care, he was fed up with this. Soubi didn't argue with him, but left his own flat obediently, after he'd taken his luggage and opened the door and..._  
_And before Ritsuka could think for a moment, before he could wipe away the tears, he found himself running frantically to it, banging on the fair wooden door that didn't open. Nobody would go back through it._  
_Ritsuka collapsed to the floor, gazing in space and thinking about what he'd just done._

The boy woke up with a shout and drenched in sweat. His eyes stung so hard he couldn't see, and his throat was burning with wild fire. He could feel the upcoming migrene.

_It was just a dream._

Ritsuka gazed around his very own bedroom. It was a dream, it didn't really happen. He didn't throw Soubi out of his home. And Soubi didn't treat him like garbage.

But he did leave, that one was painfully real. Soubi left. Alone.

Nevertheless, Ritsuka was grateful that this was just a dream. If it weren't, he knew he'd never be able to look himself in the eye.

He gave out a long sigh and started kneading his aching arm. He almost forgot about yesterday's meeting with an eerie psychopath waiting for him outside the house. And his _offer._

But what did he truly want from Ritsuka? He had no idea. He only told him he mustn't leave home. That he would suffer tremendously if he ever ran away. Oh, and to prove him he wasn't kidding and for Ritsuka to treat this seriously, he left him with all the bruises he now had to wear under his shirt. Physical pain however, was nothing. This kind of pain he was still able to bear.

All in all, it ended on threats and beating. The man never gave him his name, and he had no further demands. But Ritsuka had his own suspition – the moons. They always appeared out of nowhere, making threaths to kidnap him... Intimidating him. Treating like a mere pawn, one that would dance to their tune, as they please. But Ritsuka was aware of one crucial point – they'd never hurt him. He was sure they needed him, for some reason. Otherwise he would've died the previous night.

***

Days were passing by, one no different from the other. Ritsuka left home only to eat something out or roam the streets till nightfall. He enjoyed sitting in the park or climbing flights of stairs just to reach the rooftop where he'd rest his hads on the rail and stare at the flickering stars above him. He wondered whether they were ever as lonely as he was now.

His arm hurt him still, and no wonder really – it was decorated with a huge dark bruise and all sorts of scratches around it. Apart from that, he had a bump on his head and a horrid cut just behind his left ear. If he was to smile at that moment it'd hurt him like hell to do so. He snorted at the very thought.

He never saw that man again. Maybe because Ritsuka wasn't going anywhere, coming back home every night like he was supposed to. But this time he was strolling a bit longer. He didn't even notice when his own legs took him to that one place he tried so very hard to forget.

Soubi's apartment. It looked deseerted, then again how was it supposed to look in the middle of the night? What was he expecting, that he'd see lights, that somebody would run outside and greet him and ask him in for tea and cookies?

He was standing like that for a while, only to climb the stairs a while later. Who cares, anyway, the worst he could get was Kio scolding him and throwing out to the streets again, or Kio scolding him and letting him stay. The only question left was would that mad man notice his disappearance...? Oh, to hell with him, too.

He grabbed the knob and turned it quickly, and to his surprise the door gave in and opened. _Shouldn't they be closed?_ He went in, cautiously. The apartment was swallowed by darkness, the living room was the only place lit by moonlight cast on the wooden floor. So Kio wasn't here, after all. There was nobody here.

He made his way to Soubi's bedroom and disappeared inside it. The room was empty, just like he had suspected it to be. Light blue curtains were dancing their dance with the wind braking in through the opened window, casting all sorts of surrealistic shadows on the empty bed. He sighed and reached to close it.

He almost went into shock, then.

They were there. A pair of sky-blue eyes were gazing at him through the window pane. A pair of azure, aching eyes.

The pane disappeared with a blink of an eye, and the boy was now facing his Fighter. The next moment he felt his ice-cold palm on his very own cheek, and he had no idea whether he should run away from him, or shout like hell and let him explain himself eventually.

' What are you doing here?', he croaked.

Soubi answered him with a weary smile and rested his gaze on the opposite side of the room. Ritsuka did the same, only to find his navy suitcase resting on the floor. Empty.

' You came back?'

' No.', Ritsuka was taken aback, by then. What was going on here? ' I never left.'

The boy sunk to the floor. He didn't know what to think or feel, right now. He wasn't even sure he could believe these words. He had no idea what to say to him, or what will happent to them from now on. He lied to him, again and again. He played those cruel games of his, and Ritsuka had let him.

Soubi knelt beside him then, putting his palm on the boy's shoulder but Ritsuka answered him with a hiss and moved away from him. The Fighter withdrew his hand and looked at the boy with a dead gaze.

'No, wait', Ritsuka croaked. ' It's just that this shoulder...'

He told him about his encounter with the psychopath. How he'd waited for him right outside his house, and how mocking and threatening he was. How he made sure that Ritsuka would take him seriously.

By the end of his tale he saw pure fury roaring in his Fighter's eyes.

' He will pay for this.'

'No, he won't', Ritska rested his palms on Soubi's both shoulders. 'Listen, we don't have to take part in any of this. I don't know what they want from me but it will be better to stay out of it, okay?'

Soubi closed his eyes and didn't say anything for a longer while.

' We don't have to', he whispered, repeating his Sacrifice's words.' But this means you will never learn anything about his death. Are you capable of living with that?'

Soubi was talking about Seimei, Ritsuka knew. And he was torn – because on the one hand, he was eager to confirm, yet on the other he knew he couldn't leave the mystery of his brother's death, just like that. He had to find out why somebody dcided to hurt Seimei. He needed to know who was responsible for the crime.

The boy shook his head, causing Soubi to look away. Pale moonlight was lighting up his face, taking away every tace of any expression left. He now reminded Ritsuka of a stone statue.

'Look,' Ritsuka said firmly.' I can't. There's no room for melancholy here. I _can't._ That's all there is to it.'

' I understand', Soubi answered dully.

'No, ' Ritsuka went on.' You don't. I won't give up Seimei, I will never let the culprit avoid justice.'

The boy couldn't bear the fact that his Fighter reacted to this issue the way he did – by closing himself off, hiding behind a cold pane of glass. He wasn't able to accept the fact that his Sacrifice had a say here. And Ritsuka felt guilty, every time he looked at him only to find him in such a miserable state. And he shouldn't even feel that way. It was Soubi who hurt him first...

' Okay then' they boy sighed. There comes a time one has to be ready to sacrifice something for something else. ' I'll do it.'

His Fighter didn't react at first, but after a while disbelief was written all over his face. We wasn't expecting this to happen, for sure. He really didn't think Ritsuka would leave with him, ever.  
Well, it seems his Sacrifice made the decision at this crucial moment.

' But you have to promise me one thing' he said and Soubi nodded slightly.' I understand there are things you can't tell me. I know it has to be that way. But if we're to get out of here together, you can't lie to me. You can't play with me. You can never do that again.'

Soubi smiled slightly, his eyes filled with saddness. Ritsuka had no idea what made his Fighter sad, but that didn't matter now, not really. Not because they couldn't reach a consensus, not because they couldn't even talk it over... What mattered was to find a solution, as well as not let Soubi disappear behing the cold pane of glass again.

The most important thing was...

' I love you, Ritsuka.'

' Promise!' He wouldn't let him change the subject, not this time.

Ritsuka knew he made him promise this hundreds of times, but that didn't matter either. He was peering into these calm blue eyes and he spoke with gravity, noticing that shard of joy forming in his Fighter's eyes. He knew, if Soubi truly cares, he'll meet his terms. He knew his Fighter has to promise him this one things – that he'd never lie to him. He doesn't have to tell him the truth, this wasn't about the truth. He wanted Soubi to be honest with him.

' Promise', the boy repeated.

If he does, Ritsuka will trust him. He'll forget all the pain, he'll forget the past few days. If Soubi acts fair just this once, if he does everything he can to keep his promise, he'll leave with him.  
Yet if he fails to do so...

After a few minutes which seemed like eternity, Soubi covered his palm with his own and squeezed it slightly, whispering only two words:

' I promise.'

The clock in the hall struck four in the morning, sealing the oath of his Fighter.


End file.
